A Change in Plans
by Artichokie
Summary: A kiss on a moonlit night has all the potential to be a grand romance, or it would if one of the persons involved could remember! Carla is both furious and relieved that Sirius appears to be oblivious-and intends to keep it that way. If she can...
1. Chapter 1

Time does not bring relief; you have all lied  
>Who told me time would ease me of my pain!<br>I miss him in the weeping of the rain;  
>I want him at the shrinking of the tide;<br>_**-Edna St. Vincent Millay,  
><strong>_"_Time Does Not Bring Relief"_

A cool breeze wafted through the sun-heated air, brushing against trees and caused their limbs to quake. Many students were enjoying their first free weekend afternoon they'd had in months, final exams and the end-of-the-year workload being to blame. Now the term was nearly over, and the students would be returning home within the week.

Basking in the shade offered by one of the larger trees on the grounds, a fifth-year student laid in the grass. Her legs were stretched out in front of her, crossed at the ankle, as she leaned back and supported her upper body with her elbows planted firmly on the ground behind her. Her head hung back, her face turned skyward; her eyes were closed and a wistful smile contorted her lips. The girl's caramel brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, the ends folding over her left shoulder and cascading down along her upper arm.

For the most part, she was secluded. The nearest person was far enough away so that their boisterous comment made to a companion was reduced to a loud mumble, followed by a bark of laughter. She preferred it that way. It wasn't that she hated people or that she didn't have any friends. She knew of a few people she'd consider her friends, but, at that moment, she needed the solitude.

Despite her serene expression, her thoughts were in turmoil. She was happy, that she couldn't deny, but she never expected to be. It wasn't that she was constantly depressed; she wasn't, but the cause of her happiness was what was causing her current dilemma. She was in love, an emotion she never thought to feel.

She was only sixteen years old; she shouldn't know what love feels like. The adults she knew would scold her in their lecturing way, saying she was too young. She needed time to allow herself to grow, they'd say. But she'd disagree. She knew it was love because she had never felt anything like it before.

At first she had berated herself, thinking she was foolish for even allowing such thoughts to enter her mind. As time went on, however, she began to fear that she was deranged to allowing such a _boy_—for he was no man, not yet—affect her in such a way. She had made personal vows to herself to never become like the others—those simpering, blind, and pathetic females that came before her in his trail of heartbreak. She said she'd guard her heart against him; never allow him to take it. She told herself it was a fling, never to result in anything significant.

She sighed, the wistful smile falling from her lips. Perhaps she was foolish, but if that was the cost of happiness she'd willingly pay in full. She liked feeling happy, like she had a purpose. Although she knew he didn't love her, he felt _something_ for her. It was apparent in the way he looked at her, held her, kissed her . . . just spoke to her. She hoped for love, but she wouldn't hold her breath. Just a little affection from him would mollify her. After all, they were still a little young to do anything serious about their relationship.

Her eyes opened as her eyebrows formed a frown above them. _Did_ she want more from him? She almost laughed at the thought. Indeed, she _must_ be foolish to be thinking such notions. She'd said it herself that she wanted to finish her education and steady her life out before she focused on romance. This boy wasn't part of her plan, that was for sure; he had her thinking entirely the wrong things. Yes, she loved him, but she wasn't ready for anything more than that. She almost doubted she'd ever be.

She sat forward and crossed her legs pretzel-style. She brushed the stray dirt away from the pale skin covering her elbows and folded her arms into her lap. Her eyes roamed over the surrounding lands, appreciating what she beheld. It really was a gorgeous day—a day that was rapidly coming to an end, she noted solemnly as her eyes strayed westward. The sun would set within the hour and it wouldn't do to be caught in the chilly night air unaware. With a resigned sigh, the girl pushed herself up and began her slow journey back to the castle. There was a skip in her step, a lively extra step that she had never noticed before. A grin took over her face as warmth suffused her body. She felt alive! It felt good to be alive.

She allowed her fingers to lightly trail along the tops of the leaves of the bushes that lined a small portion of the Hogwarts exterior. She couldn't contain the lively tune that escaped her lips. Maybe she didn't have the greatest singing voice, but she didn't care; let those who are turned-off cover their ears! This was her moment of happiness; she intended to embrace it.

A nearby bush gave a slight shudder as she passed, some of its dried leaves falling to the ground beneath it. She pulled her hand back sharply and suppressed the small gasp that crawled up her throat. An airy giggle came from the leaves, followed by the deep timber of a male lightly laughing. The girl paused mid-stride and stared at the bush. It wasn't unusual for couples to be found out snogging behind the bushes that lined the castle walls, and normally she wouldn't have paid it any mind. However, there was something about that male voice that caught and stole her attention.

She remembered many afternoons spent with her current beau behind a similar bush not too much further down the pathway. A light grin flitted across her lips, but quickly disappeared as the airy chuckle came again. The bush gave another shudder before all was still again. Her curiosity unleashed, she took a step toward the bush, lightly stepping on the ground to prevent the couple in the bush from becoming alert of her presence.

Peering between the leaves, the bush was thin enough for her to make out the outline of two bodies tightly entwined. While a bit obscene, it was nothing less than she had expected. She took another step forward, as if getting closer would help her discern who was hiding behind the plant. Her heart caught as a lock of black curls came into her vision, and the voice she had heard earlier now had a face attached to it.

How could he?

Tears began to well up in her eyes as she watched the patches of skin and clothing move on the other side of the bush. Just as she'd figured out what she was feeling, he had to go and ruin it. It was hard enough for her to admit she had fallen so seriously and suddenly. Her heart couldn't take this torment.

She bent her head to prevent the onslaught of emotions. With a single finger, she wiped away the moisture that had managed to escape her eyelids. She couldn't think—didn't want to think. She knew she should move away from the bush, but her feet weren't cooperating with her brain. She wanted to yell and scream at the hidden couple, but she knew that would be unwise.

She spotted a rock sitting just beneath the outer edges of the bush's limbs. It was a decent-sized rock with smooth edges and spots dotting its gray surface. Without forming a thought to gainsay her emotions, she bent and reached for the rock. Standing straight, she glared at the couple behind the bush and chucked the rock at the castle wall. Before the rock could crash against the stone, she had taken off full-speed away from the hidden couple. She heard the startled gasps and the rustling of leaves, but kept going forward.

It was now a struggle to keep her emotions at bay. Now that she had created a leak in her defenses, they all wanted to spew out of that one little hole. Except, now that hole was growing larger by the second. With each step she took, even at her hasty speed, more tears threaten to spill out. Screams ached to be pushed through her throat, and her hands itched to hit something. Anything to give her that blissful release and to help her forget.

Up to her common room she ran, ignoring the startled looks from the fellow students she blindly bumped into. She passed through a ghost going up the stairs, but she wasn't aware that she had. Only two thoughts plagued her: "Find privacy," and "How could he?" When she finally had reached her common room, she hastily said the password—almost too quickly for the portrait to comprehend—and pushed passed before the entrance was completely revealed.

She noted that the common room was empty save for the stray student sitting alone in a dimmed corner. Their nose could've been stuck in a book, or they could have been watching her with avid interest, the girl neither knew nor cared. She took the shortest path across the common room to her dorm and slammed the door behind her.

_How could he?_

Her breathing rapid, she slowly inched away from the door. Her heavy feet plodded their way across the thick rug cover the deeply scarred wood flooring at the foot of the five beds located in the rectangular room. With each step she took, she imagined the sole of her shoe crushing the newest portion of her heart that had broken off and crumbled to the floor. By the time she made it to the window, she could no longer feel its life-giving beat.

Falling against the glass, her forehead landed with a _thud!_ against the warm glass. Is this her punishment for trusting someone for once in her life? She'd never had a reason to trust, never felt safe enough—before two seconds ago. Now the moment had passed. How could she have been so foolish? She banged her forehead against the windowpane, inflicting pain where she shouldn't feel any just to feel alive again. It didn't work; she still felt cold numbness down to the deepest parts of her being.

She couldn't hold them back any longer; the tears slowly slipped out from the folds of her eyes. She closed her eyes to hide her shame, but she only forced three more tears to slide out. She was hurt, but she didn't want anyone else to know. She just didn't know how she would ever be able to hide this despair.

The pain of losing someone, of losing control of a situation she once thought she had power over—that pain was easy to disguise. The pain of shame and humiliation? It'd be written all over her face. She could never swallow the bitter pill of failure very easily, and she had failed in this endeavor. She had failed to guard herself against the evils of men and their special organs, even though the warning bells had been going off since the beginning. She knew what she was getting into before it began.

How had she not seen it coming?


	2. Chapter 2

A score of years of since gone by,  
>Yet I bemoan him still;<br>He used to call me Bob and I  
>Was wont to call him Bill.<br>_**-Robert Service  
><strong>_"_Old Crony"_

The chattering of the birds in the tree branches outside of her window alerted her to the fact that it was daylight. The vibrant rays of light pouring in from her window only helped to enhance the fact. Yet, she stayed abed willing the day to go away.

Stifling a yawn, she rolled over onto her back, her arms coming up to cover her eyes. She always envied the birds for their graceful embrace to the morning's bloom; she had never been a morning person and probably would never become one. Not that she was complaining; the night held far more interesting creatures than broad daylight.

"Carla Marie Finnegan!" she heard her mother's voice filter up from below stairs. She stifled a groan as she rolled onto her side to face her bedroom door. By the sounds of it, Mother and Father had gotten into another tiff the previous night, and Mother was still feeling the after-effects of it. As much as she hated the idea, she wished they would divorce already. The tension within the house was nearly unbearable, and it made her grateful to her yearly retreat to Hogwarts.

_Hogwarts!_

Gasping, Carla glanced up at the analog alarm clock sitting on her bedside table. She let out a whispered curse and bolted out of bed. No wonder her mother's voice held a tinge of annoyance; she was always complaining about being responsible for Carla's wake-up time, saying that she needed to become more responsible for her actions—especially if she intended to greet the world on her own in two summers, which she did. But it wasn't her fault if the blasted Muggle machine failed to alert her to the time! She had set it last night—she knew she had. Glaring at the thing, Carla grumbled, "You will be the death of me."

She hastily pulled on a pair of jeans and a worn T-shirt as a silent string of complaints ran through her head. Not caring about how her coffee-brown hair looked, she quickly tied it back into a high ponytail and ran out of her bedroom. She knew she had everything she needed for school downstairs; this sort of thing happened every year, so she knew to be prepared. Heart pounding, she skidded to a stop inside of the small kitchen and dining area of her home.

Her mother was standing in front of a steaming stove, her arm hastily flipping something in the black frying pan situated over one of the burners. Her mother was a Muggleborn; even though she knew magic, she insisted the "old fashioned" ways, as her father termed it, were still better. She never cooked with magic, but she instead did it all by herself. Carla couldn't taste the difference between Muggle and Magical, but she wasn't about to enter that argument.

Carla had gotten her looks from her mother, her Italian heritage playing the main role in the shaping of her features. Her mother's dark brown hair was tied high with a yellow ribbon into a ponytail that swung gracefully between her shoulder blades. A yellow apron—her mother's favorite, Carla knew—was tied about her waist, stained from the years of use. She wore a white t-shirt and a pair of faded jeans, slippers donning her feet.

Carla turned her head and found the lone male residing within the household. Her father, as usual, was sitting at the dining table. He had a mug of steaming coffee sitting before him with a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ held open before him. Carla couldn't discern the section he was reading, but she guessed it was Sports. Her father had a love for them, even though he was never any good at playing. She figured it was his envy that kept him glued to every sports event imaginable, a topic of her parents' many disagreements. Carla moaned; she refused to dwell on that subject.

Gray streaks had started to take command of her father's short, unyielding black hair. It was combed back away from his face, emphasizing his piercing dark brown eyes against his fair skin. He'd always been a hard man, never allowing a soul to get too close—unless it was Carla. She knew he had a soft spot for her, and she used it to her fullest advantage. Still, he was a man she never wanted to cross.

Walking over to her father, she leaned down and pressed a small kiss to his left cheek. "Morning, Pops," she said with as much cheerfulness as she could muster. It was hard for her to feel anything but anxiety about being rushed. Repeating the greeting to her mother, she reached around the woman's middle and gave her a hug. She spied a growing pile of bacon sitting on a plate on the counter next to the stove. Grinning impishly, she grabbed a piece and hurried away before her mother could react.

"Carla!" she heard her mother groan behind her. Before she could respond, the loud chirping of a car's horn resounded from the street in front of their house. Carla's mother glanced out of the window situated above the kitchen sink and waved to the person on the other side. "The Montgomerys are here," she remarked as she turned back to her daughter.

Not a moment later, sporadic knocking filtered in from the living room. With an ecstatic grin growing on her face, Carla shoved the remainder of the bacon into her mouth and rushed to the front door. She grabbed the handle and peered out the peep hole. A black circle concealed most of the outside world, pale skin outlining the eye. Shaking her head, she pulled open the door and stood to the side.

The first girl, the one that had been peering into the peep hole, nearly fell face-first onto Carla's tile living room. She'd been propping herself against the door, Carla thought wryly, as she watched her friend regain her balance. Ryan Lee, one of Carla's best friends, was tall, towering almost half a foot above Carla—who was short herself, to her dismay. Ry's normally pencil-straight black hair had a light layer of waves in it, its edges flaring out away from her face. Her slanted black eyes were lit with mirth as she reached over and snagged Carla in a giant hugged.

"Carls! It has been too long!" she said into Carla's shoulder.

"It's barely been two months," a voice said from behind Ry. Carla glanced over Ry's shoulder and grinned at another of her best friends, Brittney Montgomery. She returned the smile and waved, flicking her curly blonde hair from her face. Her medium-length hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, the shorter ringlets falling out to frame her round face. Her blue eyes mirrored the mirth Carla felt as Ry released her from her grasp.

"Two months too long!" Ry exclaimed, her stance akimbo. "It feels like it was _forever_ ago that we stepped off the Express last month."

Footsteps sounded from the far end of the room. Carla turned to see both of her parents coming to a stop just inside the room. Her mother causally leaned against the wall with her arms gently folded across her chest, a smile on her face. Her father, on the other hand—typically serious—had his hands in his trouser pockets, not a glimmer of amusement showing on his face. He wasn't upset, Carla knew; that was just his normal stance. She sighed.

"You all ready?" a third voice came from the doorway. Mr. Montgomery, Brittney's dad, resembled his daughter almost to a T. He had a full head of curling blonde hair and shining blue eyes. He was thin, tall, but he always wore a smile on his lips. He glanced towards Carla's parents and waved. "How've you been, Anna? Roger?"

Carla's father nodded in acknowledgment while her mother beamed. "We've been well, thank you. How've you been, Edward? Is Evelyn with you?"

"She's out in the car," he nodded. As if on cue, a car horn sounded from the street. Carla looked out to see another blonde leaning over to the driver's side of the vehicle, waving excitedly. Brit's father chuckled. "That'd be her. Not to rush you or anything, but we are running a touch behind schedule. Is this yours?" he asked as he walked over to Carla's trunk.

"Yep," she responded as she followed, picking up the bag she'd placed on top the night before. She watched as he hefted her trunk and carried it out the door. She stared after him, feeling suddenly morose. For the sixth time, she was preparing to leave for Hogwarts. For the sixth time, she would say goodbye to her parents. She would experience this moment only one more time before her time at Hogwarts was over. Suddenly, she didn't want to leave. She didn't want the new year to start in fear that her final two years would proceed at a faster rate than she wanted.

"We'll wait for you in the car, Carls," Brit said as she turned to follow her father.

"And please, do hurry," Ry added, a smirk on her face, as she followed her friend.

Carla grinned to herself. Didn't want the school year to start? She was eager as ever!

She quickly walked over to her parents, reaching up to give them both a hug. Her father managed to slip a hand out of his pockets to somewhat return the favor while her mother was far more enthusiastic. Just as quickly, she pushed out of their embrace and started for the door.

"'Bye!" Carla shouted over her shoulder. "See you guys next summer!" She tried to hurry past her mother, but the older woman was quicker. She had Carla by the forearm in a tight lock, jolting her to a stop. A slight grin flirted with her lips, but there was a stern look in her eyes.

"I know I don't have to worry about you," she said in a calm voice; "you tell me so every summer. But I do, you know that. I do love you, after all." She leaned down and gave her daughter a swift peck on the cheek and enveloped her in another tight hug. "Don't do anything stupid, all right?" She released her daughter, tousling Carla's hair as she did. "We'll see you next summer."

"I love you, too, Mum," Carla said softly, giving her mother an appreciatory smile. A car horn beeping from the street pulled Carla back away from her mother and reminded her of what she was late for. She gasped and turned to run out the door.

"Oh!" her mother shouted after her. "And don't have too many of those stupid frog chocolates you're so fond of! They'll give you a stomach ache!"

"O_kay_, Mum! I'll see you in ten months!" She slammed the door behind her and jogged toward the waiting car. Sliding into the backseat, she grinned at her friends—who were both glaring at her.

"Jeez, what took so long?" Brit asked after a pause.

"Seriously, if we miss the Express because of you, I won't speak to you again!" Ry said from Brit's other side, her arms folded across her chest.

"You're such a liar, Ry. We're attached at the hip—well, Brit's hip, in this case—and that'd be a pretty lonely existence for you," Carla responded with a grin.

"Yeah, well, I'd put in a good effort," Ry responded softly, turning to face the window. Even with her head turned, Carla could make out the makings of a smile on her friend's lips in the girl's reflection.

"You're not going to miss the Express," Brit's father interjected from the driver's seat. "We've got plenty of time to spare."

"Anyway, I've got a pre-Express tradition in my bag," Brit said as she reached down to the floor by her feet. A slight rustling noise wafted up, and then was followed by the sound of candy wrappers. Brit sat up with three Chocolate Frogs in her hand, an exciting gleam in her eyes. "First Chocolate Frog of the school year, anyone?"

"Oh, thank God you're on top of that Brit," Carla said with a relieved sigh. "If it were left up to me, we'd be forced to wait for the Trolley Lady to come through with her cart, and you know how long of a wait that could be. I don't think my nerves could wait that long." Unwrapping the candy, she popped it in her mouth and savored the treat. "Who ever invented these should receive a knighthood or something."

"Don't you ever read the cards?" Brit asked as she unwrapped her own chocolate.

"No," Carla responded with a shrug; "does he have one?"

"I don't know; probably."

"Speaking of cards," Ry asked as she examined her own, then quickly glancing up at Carla; "do you want yours?" Carla handed hers over without responding, having no desire to keep what she had no use of. Ry turned her face to Brit. "And you?"

"No, I'm normal; I keep them just like you."

"So be it," Ry responded, sitting back in her seat. "But you know who to talk to when you are in the mood to talk trade." The two girls occupied themselves with their newly acquired cards. Carla grinned to herself and turned to watch the moving scenery outside. So far, the school year was off to a great start.


	3. Chapter 3

When twilight drops her curtain down  
>And pins it with a star,<br>Remember that you have a friend  
>Though she may wander far.<br>_**Lucy Maud Montgomery,**  
><em>"_A New Interest in Life"_

They made it to Platform 9¾ with time to spare, just as Brit's father had predicted. With a quick wave to the adult Montgomerys, the three girls clambered onto the train and quickly laid siege to the first empty compartment they came across. Carla sat close to the window, keeping an eye out for their fourth friend, while Ry and Brit discussed something that sounded vaguely like a Chocolate Frog card exchange. Carla decided to tune them out.

She stared out of the window, her eyes following people as they passed. It was always easy to discern the first years from the other students. They always clung to their parents, worry and dread evident in their small eyes. Their parents were the ones that refused to stop crying, even as they smiled and waved to their departing child. It was hard, she supposed, to bear the initial separation. She recalled her own, remembering how during her first week of Hogwarts she'd cried herself to sleep as she lost herself in fits of homesickness. It was only for that first week, though, and then distraction helped to settle her nerves.

There were always exceptions to the norms, however. A pure-blooded, potential Slytherin first year, for example, would prance down the platform as if they owned the cement they stood on. Their parents trailed behind at a reasonable pace, their pride-filled eyes watching their child board the train. They didn't wave, only observed. Smugness oozed from their every pore until one had to restrain one's self from cracking them across the face just to see their reaction. And it was those first years who were the first to react to reality upon the train. If they came across a group of Gryffindor upperclassmen, it didn't take them long for them to learn that not everyone thought the world revolved around a single spoiled brat. Thus, the hatred for the opposing houses was born, and it was at Hogwarts in which it thrived and multiplied. It had potential to be amusing, but it was mainly aggravating.

A couple stopped in front of the window, breaking Carla from her thoughts. Both had heads of black, elegantly swept back off of their faces in styles that enhanced both appearances. Their skin was fair, the woman's touched with a dusting of freckles across her cheeks. Her eyes were a deep blue, a shade that made the oceans jealous. The man's were a rich brown, the kind that bring the image of chocolate to mind—which only enhanced Carla's craving for chocolate frogs. She groaned in her throat; one was never enough, especially if a person was cursed with a blasted sweet tooth.

Between the couple stood a young girl, a first year by the look of her. She shared the same hair color as her parents, only hers was cropped short with the ends brushing against her shoulders. A deep blue ribbon was tied just behind the girl's straight bangs and complimented her eyes. Her body was in that awkward stages all preteens go through—to their dismay—and her height only enhanced her gangly appearance. It was obvious that in a few years she would grow to be a beauty, and that made Carla just a little jealous.

The two adults knelt down next to their kin and wrapped their arms around her simultaneously. Engulfed, her arms could barely wrap around her parents' necks to return the hug, joy written across her face. It was apparent how much love was shared within this family, and it made Carla just a little uncomfortable. She felt as though she were a Peeping Tom, a voyeur witnessing an event she had no business in witnessing. God help her, but she couldn't pull her eyes away.

That was the kind of relationship she longed for. Oh, sure, her family wasn't bad. It could definitely be worse, and for that she was grateful. Still, there was always room for improvement. The only time her parents had accompanied her to Platform 9 ¾ was the September before her first year at Hogwarts. Her father hadn't wanted to come, claiming he had pressing business to take care of and that Carla's mother was more than capable of escorting her to the train. However, she'd thrown a fit that day, locked herself in her room and threatened to jump out of her window if they so much as mentioned her leaving again. It had taken her father's booming voice to coerce her out of her room, and he'd been forced to—grudgingly—take her to the train station. It was a trip she'd gladly like to forget, the tension so high she could barely breathe. She knew her behavior was highly childish, but she had still been a child and was afraid of leaving home for the first time.

Never again had they accompanied her. They rarely wrote to her at Hogwarts, only on her birthday and any other holiday they deemed important. Naturally, she did the same. At first, the separation was hard to deal with, especially with the lack of communication. Eventually she got used to it and almost grateful for it. She'd seen some of her other friends get letters everyday, heard them groan over a reprimand after they'd accidentally let something slip that they shouldn't have. Without her parents writing her every week, it was easier to not talk about things… hide things. Not that she had anything to hide; Carla was a good student who typically followed the rules.

A sharp shrill filtered in through the window, causing her to jump a little. The family outside was equally startled as all three glanced towards the front of the train. It was nearing time to go, Carla knew, not that it was hard to discern. The little girl's eyes welded up with tears, and her arms tightened around her parents. She was the kind of girl who would get bunches of letters from her parents, and she was also the kind who would cry herself to sleep for the first week; Carla could see it now. The woman pressed a smacking kiss against the girl's cheek and shoved her towards the train. Her father gave her another encouraging shove when the girl hesitated, causing her to slip from view. When the couple stood, Carla presumed the girl had finally made it on the train. The tears were falling down the woman's cheeks now as the man held his back. Carla's heart caught as she once again felt like the worst kind of voyeur.

"What are you staring at, Carla?" a voice asked from behind her. Carla whipped her head around and found that both of her friends were watching her intently. She felt her cheeks heat up uncontrollably as she averted her gaze back towards the window. The couple still stood there, their arms wrapped around each other. Both were waving excitedly now as huge grins split across their faces.

"I wasn't staring at anything," Carla told her friends distractedly. "I was thinking."

"Well, snap out of it, okay? You still have a few hours before you have to concentrate _that_ hard," Ry said with a shudder as she turned back in her seat. With a roll of her eyes, Carla turned her face away from the train station and focused on the two girls in the compartment.

Both Brit and Ry had a stack of Chocolate Frog cards out next to them and were diligently sorting through them. Brit, having quickly recovered from Ry's intervention of Carla's concentration, had her bottom lip caught between her teeth, her eyes squinting as she shifted through her cards. Ry, on the other hand, was grinning eagerly, constantly switching her gaze between the card she held in front of her to Brit's face. It was all Carla could do to stifle her groan; once they started a trading session, it would be hours before the two thought of anything else.

"Why is it that I never have the card you want?" Brit asked finally, exasperated. She set her cards in organized stacks on the seat next to her, shaking her head. "I have plenty of Circes, Dumbledores, and Morganas, but no Cliodnas."

"Nor Ptolemys!" Ry said in a sing-song voice as she waved the card she'd been holding.

Brit glared at her. "Nor do I have any Ptolemys," she said grudgingly.

"Got any Merlins?" a voice drawled from their compartment entrance. All three girls looked up simultaneously at the intruder, their shoulders tense. It took no more than a split second for the group to recognize the person, and grins broke out all around.

"El!" Ry shouted and jumped up to engulf her friend in a giant hug, similar to the one she'd subjected Carla to earlier. Ellen Matthews, or El as she is known to her closest friends, was shorter than Ry by a few inches. Her short, layered black hair rested gently against her collarbone—or as gently as Ry's embrace allowed it to. Her bangs were parted asymmetrically and concealed her left eye. El's gray eyes blinked rapidly, startled by the attack, but her lips gave into a broad smile.

"I've missed you! What's new?" Ry released her and returned to her seat. El leaned against the compartment door.

"I saw you two months ago; nothing's changed, trust me," she said, amused.

"Everything constantly changes," Ry returned. "And what's this about having Merlins? I thought you had a ton of them?"

"I did, but… they went to a better cause." She let out a long sigh and folded her arms. "Suffice it to say that I no longer have any."

"See, that changed! But you've come to the right place as I happen to have plenty." Ry picked up her cards and shuffled them into a neat pile in her hands. "Take a seat, and let the trading begin!"

"Who's your shadow?" Brit asked, her attention riveted on a spot behind El.

"Oh!" El exclaimed, pushing away from the doorjamb. She reached behind her and gently pulled forward a young girl. Carla gasped; it was the girl she'd watched on the train dock. She couldn't fight back a grin. "This is Jacqueline Mallory."

"What's up, Jack?" Ry said with a grin.

El smiled. "I've been babysitting her over the summer for the past few years. Her parents are Muggles, but it turns out she's slightly more than average." El gave her a swift squeeze around her shoulders. The girl looked up at her and returned her grin. "They weren't too comfortable finding out my _special_ abilities, either, but I won them over. Anyway, I promised her family I'd watch out for her seeing as she's unfamiliar with the whole magic thing. D'you think you three can help me out?"

Carla nodded without hesitation. What's another friend? It'd distract her from her friend's trading antics, anyway. Ry, on the other hand, let out an exaggerated sigh, and said, "If I have to, I guess I can."

"I knew I could count on you!" El hastily made the introductions and situated Jacqueline in the empty spot between Carla and Brit before she quickly dug into her pocket and brought out her own stack of trading cards. The trading back on, Carla let her attention drift to Jacqueline.

She sat stiffly, her head bent down. Her hands were wringing in her lap as she fidgeted nervously. Carla smiled sympathetically and leaned down close to her ear. "Nervous?" she said quietly.

Jacqueline jumped, startled, and looked up at Carla. She nodded, catching her bottom lip in her teeth. Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks were pale. For once, Carla was grateful for her parents' knowledge on Hogwarts. She'd been forewarned, therefore forearmed. Carla was sure El had informed her of everything she'd needed to know, but she was still left facing the unknown.

"Don't be nervous; you're amongst friends now." Carla gave her a smile. The girl shyly returned the smile as she stuffed her hands beneath her legs. "Nothing bad can happen to you, promise."

Famous last words if Carla had ever heard any.


	4. Chapter 4

Bitter our hatred is, old and strong and unchanging  
>Twined with the fibres of life, blent with body and soul<br>But as its bitterness, so might have been our love's sweetness  
>Had it not missed the way-strange missing and sad!-to its goal.<br>**Lucy Maud Montgomery,  
><strong>"_To One Hated"_

"Firs' years, this way!" the booming, familiar voice greeted them as the five girls stepped off the train. Jacqueline had latched onto Ellen and had her hand firmly grasped. At El's grimace, Carla could only assume that sound of Hagrid's voice addressing the new students had startled Jacqueline into tightening her hold—if that was possible. Carla couldn't repress a smile.

"It's going to be okay, Jacqueline," Ellen said to her in a calming voice once they had moved out of the way of the other students. She turned and knelt next to her, her hands grabbing the young girl's. "It's tradition! Even we had to do it."

Jacqueline glanced back towards the tall man nervously. She began to gnaw in her bottom lip, her eyes growing wide as she watched him saunter in their direction. She turned quickly back to Ellen, her forehead making contact with the older girl's.

"Couldn't I just stay with you?" she said sotto voce. If Carla hadn't been paying attention, she would have missed the girl's words completely. Ellen sighed, a hint of impatience creeping into her face.

"I'm sorry, Jackie, but you need to go with Hagrid." Ellen straightened and managed to unlock herself from Jacqueline's hold. "Everything will be fine. It's just a small boat ride across the lake, and then a short hike up a seemingly endless amount of stairs. That's it."

"But—" Jacqueline tried to say, but her words were cut off when she was jostled backwards. All four older girls' attention shifted instantly from Jacqueline to the source of the interruption.

A boy, undoubtedly a first year, had slammed his shoulder into Jacqueline's, causing her to stumble backwards. He was a short boy with dark, straight hair. It was fashionably short

He turned his head to glare at Jacqueline over his shoulder, his eyes a dark cobalt. The expression on his face was enough to freeze every candle that lit the Great Hall. It was enough to make Carla shiver; Jacqueline, who was on the receiving end of such a look, recoiled as if she had been stung.

"Future Slytherin," Brit murmured from behind Carla. Carla silently agreed, her eyes following the boy as he walked towards Hagrid.

"Don't mind him," Ellen said, grabbing Jacqueline by the shoulders. "Now, go on and meet the other first years. It'll be fun. Promise." She grinned, but Jacqueline wasn't reassured. Ellen sighed. "When have I ever steered you wrong?"

"Well…" Jacqueline paused, her head tilted upwards in an exaggerated pose. She stared at the sky, a finger coming to rest on her chin. After a few seconds, she turned her gaze back to Ellen, a shy smile on her face.

"That's right, never," Ellen returned, amusement in her voice. She stood and released the young girl. "Off you go, then." Jacqueline's smile faltered, but she dutifully did as she was told. Slowly, one step at a time, she made her way across the train landing, closer and closer to Hagrid.

"Watch out for the giant squid!" Ry called out just before the girl made it to the group surrounding the half-giant. "Three kids didn't make it across the lake my first year!"

"Ry!" the other three girls admonished in unison.

"What?" she said with a shrug, a sly grin on her face.

"Be nice, she's scared," Ellen replied as the group turned around and walked toward the carriages the other students were required to take.

"And that's supposed to make her less of a target?" She let out a loud bark of laughter. "If anything, I'd say that makes her more vulnerable."

"Just leave her be. Have you fun with any other first year."

"Okay. _Okay,_" Ry replied resignly. "If I absolutely _have_ to, I'll leave her be."

"Thank you," Ellen replied as she climbed into a carriage. Carla was behind her, and quickly ascended.

"For now," Ry whispered so that only Carla had heard her. She stifled a giggle; Carla knew that poor Jacqueline was going to regret ever meeting Ry over the next year. Ry took a seat across from Ellen; Brit sat next to her. "All I'm trying to do is help her grow a thick skin as her's seems kind of soft," Ry said in normal tones as the carriage started to move. "If anything, you should be thanking me."

"She can grow thicker skin tomorrow; let her survive her first day with her innocence in place, at least."

The rest of the short carriage ride was made in silence, each girl examining their own thoughts. Carla watched the passing scenery, anticipation growing in her stomach. She was excited for the upcoming year, yet an underlying sadness invaded her joy. She'd only make this trip one more time, experience these sights, these emotions, just a single time more. It was heart-wrenching, almost. Hogwarts was home.

The castle gates came into view, the castle itself an object of the background. Still, its point on the horizon did nothing to detract from its majesty. As she descended from the carriage, Carla was unable to ignore the sense of awe that washed over her. The atmosphere was charged with levity; the hum of student voices as they made their way up the path floated back to her.

Carla could hear the discussion of classes, of house drama, of friends reunited, summer tales of adventures—it was like a symphony of voices. Some were exuberant and full of laughter while others were sullen and dull, but each had their own part in this scene. Each added a spark of something that complimented the other. Hogwarts was coming back to life; Carla grinned.

They'd reached the main entrance, a grand doorway atop a flight of stone stairs. The castle glittered in the darkness, its glorious entrance glowing like a beacon in the middle of a stormy sea. It was magnificent, mesmerizing; it was also the last place someone wanted to humiliate themselves at.

Carla had made it up three steps before her clumsiness came to light—not that it had been a secret. Before she could shout in fright, her hands came out to protect her chest and caught herself four steps above the one she'd tripped on. Dust floated into her nostrils as she let out a huff.

_Awesome,_ she thought as she started to push herself up. Her friends had heard her startled yelp and had stopped midway up the stairs. All three had concerned looks on their faces, although, Carla would swear Ry's lips were twitching just a bit.

"Are you okay, Carls?" Brit asked, backtracking to offer a hand to Carla.

"Fine," Carla mumbled as she accepted the proffered hand.

"Aren't you supposed to fall _down_ the stairs, not up?" a familiar voice drawled from behind her. Carla froze, her right arm keeping her balanced on the step below. She closed her eyes and suppressed a groan. Of all the people who had to be a witness to her humiliation, _he_ would be one of them! It was moments like these when sinkholes were most appreciated.

Carla glared over her shoulder at the speaker and gave a sneer. "I'm no physicist, but I'm pretty sure the forces of gravity keep pulling me towards the ground, and they don't discriminate against which direction I'm going."

Sirius Black—_tall, dark, and annoying,_ she thought as she turned to face him. He had eyes made of sin; even with just a look he had the female population swooning. He had the grin of a thief, and the tongue of a serpent. He could talk himself out of any situation he happened to put himself in, and he was often proving how easily he could do so. More importantly, though, Carla thought as she continued glaring at him through narrowed eyes, he was the bane of her existence.

"Was that sarcasm, Finney?" he said with false astonishment. "An attempt at a joke? Are you finally trying to break out of your shell? Last I 'member, you still had a heart of ice wrapped up in that chest of yours. Always so serious; no time for play!"

"Is there something I can help you with, Black?" Carla said with a sigh, her hands coming to rest on her hips.

"No cronies today?" Brit called out from behind Carla. By now, a small group of students had formed behind Sirius, watching the exchange avidly. Carla realized her small mishap had turned into a major traffic block, preventing others from entering the castle. And those who dared press on had to shove by her, some knocking into her shoulders and causing her to stumble slightly where she stood. Sure enough, though, not one of them appeared to be one of his fellow mischief makers.

He gave a small shrug of his shoulders—if the uncaring, very slight lifting of his shoulders could be considered a shrug, Carla amended. "Forgot something in our compartment, and I had to go back for it. Lost 'em in the crowd; you know how it can get—especially when something as exciting as Finney, here, tripping _up_ the stairs." The last word was somewhat distorted by the chuckles that Sirius, seemingly, could no longer contain.

"And so it starts," Carla sighed to herself as she swung around, ignoring Sirius's mirth behind her. A few other students had joined him in his merriment, but Carla decided they weren't worth another second of her time. The feast awaited, and her stomach was already balking at the prospect of sitting idly—foodless—during the sorting ceremony. If you've seen one, you've seen them all—and it was probable that the Sorting Hat would have to shout louder than usual to make it over the rumbling of her stomach. Carla groaned quietly.

"C'mon, Carls," Ellen said as Carla made it to the top step—without tripping—and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leading her into the castle; "ignore him. You know how ornery he can be. He'll never change."

"Unfortunately," Carla told her quietly. Despite her embarrassment, she had to admit that the site of her falling up the stairs probably had been the highlight of an otherwise dull night. Yes, she was capable of laughing at herself—just not in front of _him._


End file.
